


New Year, New Me

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:42:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Bucky cuts his hair. You’ve got a lot of feelings about it.





	New Year, New Me

You’re still new to Brooklyn. Your little apartment still has boxes in it and you mostly keep to yourself. With one exception - your neighbor, Bucky.

You’re not an idiot - you know who he is. At first you’re too star struck to even say anything to him, and you’re also a little confused at why he’s here, and not in Avengers Tower or wherever they all live.

You only get glimpses of him at first. He seems to leave once a day and is gone most of the work day - you assume going into Manhattan, but some days you hear him through the thin walls, still in his apartment.

There’s days when you don’t hear him at all, and irrationally, you worry. Your first conversation happens accidentally. You’re in the lobby, staring at the “out of service” sign on the elevator, trying to figure out how you’re going to get your groceries up six flights of stairs.

Someone clears their throat behind you. “Do you— do you need help?” His voice is deep, and softer than you expected, though rough with disuse.

You’re staring. You know you’re staring, and you have to force yourself to act normal. “Um— actually, yeah. That would be great. I don’t want to put you out…”

“Sixth floor, right? I’m going that way anyway.”

You blush a little. “I think we’re neighbors.”

He surprises you with a small smile. “I think you’re right.” He sticks his arm out to you, his metal arm, and draws it back quickly almost like he’s afraid you’re going to flinch away. “Sorry— I just…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Actually, no.” He sticks his arm out again. “Pile those bags on.” He grins.

You smile back, a small chuckle escaping you. “Is there some kind of weight limit? Don’t exceed ten tons or something?” You tease, and your heart flutters at the way his eyes light up. You wonder how long it’s been since someone wasn’t afraid of him.

“Only one way to find out.”

.

.

That was a year ago, and you see Bucky a little more regularly now. It’s still not more than small conversations in the elevator or the lobby, or in the hallway while you cross paths.

You see  _Captain America_ a few times too, but you’re never brave enough to do anything but smile at him.

One day, you run into Bucky on the corner across from your building on your way home, and when he slows his pace so you can catch up, you find yourself brave enough to ask.

“Why do you live here instead of with the others?”

He’s quiet for a minute. “I’m from Brooklyn. Or, I was. Back then. Before everything.”

You nod, encouraging him.

“It can be a lot… being with everyone else. I feel more comfortable here. More normal.”

You smile at him, pausing as you get to the front door and he opens it for you. “I get it. I mean— as much as I can. It’s nice here. Quiet. Seems… stuck in time.”

He’s staring at you as you wait for the elevator, and you try not to shrink under his scrutiny.

“I grew up not far from here.” He tells you. “It’s not there anymore, but— this was close. Similar.”

You nod and face forward as the elevator dings it’s arrival. The ride up is silent, and as you get to your door, you stop, hand on the doorknob. “I hope—“ you pause, praying you’re not saying the wrong thing. “I hope you can find some happiness here. Whatever that means for you.”

His answering smile is small, but it’s in his eyes. He looks down at the floor. “Yeah. Me too.”

.

.

It’s weeks before you see him again. You’re headed out to get coffee and try to find some inspiration for your work when the door opens across the hall, and he’s there.

You don’t say anything for a minute because he — well, he looks different. He looks rested, there’s light in his eyes again, and… his hair. It’s cropped close, tousled artfully on top, and his beard is trimmed.

You can’t help it - you already thought he was the most attractive guy you’d ever seen, but this… he looks incredible, and he knows it.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hi…” You swallow. “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“I took a vacation.” He says, a smile tilting his lips.

“Looks good on you,” you reply without thinking. You blush, and his smile is slow, making you think about what he must have been like in the 40s, charming every lady in a ten block radius.

“Thanks. Felt like a change.” he says simply. He takes a few steps towards the elevator before he stops, turning back towards you. “Do you— do you want to get coffee? With me? Right now?”

You smile at his nervousness and he rolls his eyes at himself, laughing. “Sorry. It’s been awhile since I’ve done this.”

“Doing great so far.”

“Yeah?” He takes a step closer. You’re practically buzzing with excited and nervous energy all at once.

“I haven’t eaten yet. Let’s do breakfast with our coffee.”

“I’d really like that.”

He smiles again, and you’re helpless to resist him. You probably always have been.

.

.

Over breakfast he doesn’t take his eyes off you. You would feel self conscious, but the look in his eyes doesn’t make you nervous. It makes you… you’ve never really felt like this.

“New clothes?” You ask, gesturing to his forest green sweater and jacket.

“A gift,” he says, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. “From your friendly neighborhood Falcon trying to get me into this century.”

You laugh at the thought of it. “It suits you.

“You think so?” His smirk is back.

“I think… if you like the way you look, then yeah. It suits you.” You shrug.

“For a long time, I had no choice about the way I looked. I was supposed to blend in. I—“ he stops himself. “I guess I just wanted to feel like me again. On my own terms.”

You nod. Your hand finds his free one on the table top and you squeeze, gently. “I’m really glad we’re neighbors, Bucky Barnes.”

His answering smile is blinding. “I am, too.”

Afterwards, when you go your separate ways for the day, you press a kiss to his scruffy cheek. He looks surprised by it, and then unbearably smug.

“Don’t think you’re special. I say goodbye to all my friends like that.”

He laughs. “Oh, of course. I won’t read into it, then.”

“Good.”

He leans down and kisses you softly, gently. It’s over so quick you’re not even positive it happened at all. “Just so we’re clear, I  _don’t_  kiss all my friends like that.”

“Good to know,” you say, dazed. “Good to know.”


End file.
